


Stranded

by AstroFox



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Passengers (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Space, Outer Space
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27974156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroFox/pseuds/AstroFox
Summary: An interstellar journey on a sleeper ship takes an unexpected turn. (Hunger Games/Passengers AU crossover) [On Hiatus]
Relationships: Cato/Clove (Hunger Games), Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	1. The Starship Avalon

**Author's Note:**

> General Disclaimer: I do not own either The Hunger Games or Passengers. This fiction contains materials known to the State of California to...
> 
> This will be an AU fic in both universes since I don't think Peeta waking Katniss up (or vice-versa) is a good idea.

In the blackness of space trillions of kilometers from Earth, a lone spacecraft coasts through the nothingness, its metallic hull glistening against the eerily dark and quiet backdrop of interstellar space.

The Avalon. The Homestead Company’s latest and greatest interstellar sleeper ship (or as they called it, “luxury starliner”), designed to transport over 5,000 people to a planet many light-years away from Earth.

The ship’s design is unlike any other, with three primary hull sections rotating around a center core, very much like a vertical wind turbine. This design – the first of its kind – maximized the space available to passengers and crew and made it possible to generate centrifugal forces strong enough to completely simulate Earth gravity, alleviating any potential health concerns for the ship’s occupants.

Being the fastest ship in the fleet (its bleeding-edge ion drive is capable of pushing the ship up to 60% of the speed of light - over 647 million kilometers per hour), the Avalon was chosen for a special flight: the inaugural flight to the colony planet of Homestead II.

That being said, even with that kind of speed, traveling to a planet so far away from Earth is going to take quite some time. For that reason, the ship was designed as a sleeper – where passengers and crew would go into hibernation for their journey, which in this flight to Homestead II would take just about 120 years.

With the entire crew and passenger in hibernation, the ship is designed to autonomously handle all operations while en route. Everything is accounted for, from the ship’s state-of-the-art autopilot system to the robots that keep the ship’s interior squeaky clean.

To account for any possible hardware failures en route to the destination, the ship features the latest in distributed computing technology. If a compute module fails, any other compute module on the ship could pick up its slack and keep the entire system working as if nothing happened. The possibility of a ship-wide failure was predicted to be next to impossible.

Traveling at half the speed of light comes with its fair share of issues, one of which is the fact that at that speed, even a stray piece of rock that came into contact with the ship would’ve packed enough destructive force to breach the ship’s hull. Of course, this problem was on the drawing board since the beginning, and the ship was designed to handle exactly this kind of situation.

Equipped with three redundant shield generators at the very front of the ship, the Avalon is designed to push through any debris field imaginable. By carefully channeling and modulating electromagnetic energy, the ship’s primary shield is strong enough to push away debris harmlessly to the side or even break apart large pieces of debris, like an ice-breaker, if the need ever arises.

* * *

`[947980800.306] [Info] navigation autopilotd: performing course correction (waypoint ID 1706)  
[947980831.714] [Info] navigation autopilotd: course correction complete (waypoint ID 1706)  
  
[948844831.114] [Alert] navigation proximityd: debris field detected in current path  
[948844831.314] [Info] shipops shieldcontrold: increasing primary shield power (25 > 50%)  
  
[948844831.406] [Info] navigation pathplannerd: calculating path for debris avoidance maneuver  
[948844833.825] [Alert] navigation pathplannerd: unable to find clear avoidance path for current debris field (selecting path with least impacts)  
  
[948844834.007] [Info] navigation autopilotd: debris avoidance maneuver requested, adjusting path  
[948844834.331] [Info] shipops shieldcontrold: impact protocol initiated, increasing shield power (50% > 100%)  
[948844835.112] [Info] shipops powerd: diverting power to main shield  
  
[948844903.312] [Alert] navigation proximityd: large object detected in path  
[948844903.495] [Info] navigation pathplannerd: calculating path for debris avoidance maneuver  
[948844903.942] [Warning] navigation pathplannerd: unable to find avoidance path for object [COLLISION ALERT]  
  
[948845037.312] [Info] navigation proximityd: clear of conflict  
[948845040.668] [Info] navigation autopilotd: returning to predefined course  
[948845040.898] [Info] shipops shieldcontrold: reducing shield power (100% > 25%)  
[948845041.060] [Warning] shipops hwmanagerd: 17 compute module(s) reported fault(s) [fault log group #4]. Performing load diversion and attempting reboot…  
[948845055.217] [Error] shipops hwmanagerd: compute module H_POD_1498 unrecoverable fault (message: “unrecoverable error E900 – this should never happen in production!”)  
[948845058.312] [Error] shipops hwmanagerd: compute module H_POD_1536 unrecoverable fault (message: “unrecoverable error E900 – this should never happen in production!”)  
  
`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I had to make the Avalon a bit more capable than its original form in an attempt to make this story a little more believable. The ship's destination in this story is TRAPPIST-1e, an exoplanet about 40 light-years away from Earth.
> 
> Assuming that the ship can constantly accelerate at ~0.11 m/s^2, the ship would take ~116 years to make the journey (per shipboard time), at a maximum speed of 0.583c (~629 million km/h). I'll chalk up the other 4 years to other circumstances (the ship may not be able to maintain maximum speed at all times, for one). This makes the Avalon in our story significantly faster than the movie-Avalon's 0.5c max (to put it in perspective, our Avalon goes 89 million km/h faster!).


	2. Hibernation Pod 1498

` // Hibernation Pod 1498  
// Passenger: Everdeen, Katniss  
// Designation: Wildlife Biologist  
  
Wake-up process initiated.  
Performing H_POD_EVAC sequence… [ complete ]  
Stabilizing vitals… [ complete ]  
Opening hatch… [ complete ]  
Passenger discharged.  
`

* * *

``

I woke up with what had to be the worst headache ever. Blurry vision, disorientation, confusion – you name it, I’ve got it. Oh, the pain of drawing a breath. It strangely felt like something I haven’t done in ages…

``

``

“Good morning, Katniss!” came a soft, sweet, but distinctively flat voice – that of a virtual assistant. “How are you feeling?”

``

``

Where am I? I opened my eyes and was immediately greeted by light. A lot of light. And… a face? I blinked. No, that face wasn’t just a figment of my imagination. The woman in front of me felt… real, in a sense, though I’m pretty sure I haven’t met her before.

``

``

“Wait, what?” was the only word my confused self could say.

``

``

“It’s perfectly normal to feel confused. You’ve just spent a hundred and twenty years in suspended animation.”

``

``

“What?” I got even more confused. None of this makes any sense to me. I tried to reach out to touch the woman in front of me, but my fingers slipped right through her face. Oh, so that’s not a real person...

``

``

“It’s okay, Katniss. Just breathe, everything is okay.” I think I felt the effect of the assistant's soothing voice, which helped calm me down just a bit. The bed I’m on (if you could even call it that) jostled a little and began moving.

``

``

“Where am I?” I asked.

``

``

“You’re a passenger on the starship Avalon, the Homestead Company’s premier interstellar starliner. We’ve nearly completed the voyage from Earth to your new home, the colony world of Homestead II. A new world, a fresh start. Room to grow. The Avalon is on final approach, and for the next four months, you’ll enjoy space travel at its most luxurious. Food, fun, friends.” The virtual assistant narrated as the holographic display in front of me switched to a presentation of sorts. Almost like an advertisement, I thought.

``

``

“Friends,” I said, slightly smiling.

``

``

“That’s right, Katniss. The ID band on your wrist is your key to the wonders of the Avalon. You’re in perfect health, so let’s get you to your cabin where you can get some rest”.

* * *

``

` [948865933.912] [Warning] shipops orchestratord: core controller redundancy degraded (4 > 3)  
[949023401.036] [Info] shipops orchestratord: initializing 14036 pods in group "guest_service_software_pods"  
[949027666.583] [Warning] shipops orchestratord: insufficient pool resources for all pods  
`


	3. Cabin 268

I yawned, propped myself up on one elbow, and gave my cabin a cursory glance. Everything feels so white and sterile, and the only thing letting me know it's time to wake up is the stark artificial lights from the ceiling that gradually increased its brightness along with the soft (but still annoying) sound of the alarm clock doing its job.

You see, being in space, there's no real way of "looking out the window" to tell time. There's no sunlight to wake you up in the morning. It's not even something that would've applied to me anyway. With me being from one of the poorer parts of the Seam – a small part of District 12, where I used to live on Earth – an economy-class ticket on the Avalon is already very much a stretch (and we had to pay for two – one for me, and one for my sister Prim). Economy-class cabins don't come with windows. Not even the virtual ones.

Me and Prim – we actually got on cheap. Being a part of the "desirable trade" program for the colony, with me specializing in wildlife sciences and Prim in medicine, we got on with a deeply discounted ticket – with one catch: in exchange for "reduced fare" rates, we had to sign a contract agreeing to pay the Homestead Company twenty percent of what little income we made for the rest of our lives. _Talking about private taxation..._

Throwing the thick, plushy blanket off (at the very least they included that with the ticket!), I groggily made my way to the bathroom for my morning routine. With everything said and done, I dressed myself the usual way – a long-sleeved black shirt, gray pants, my favorite leather jacket, and a comfy pair of boots. I put my hair in the usual single braid down my back - a simple way to dress for the day that just works.

Remembering what I was told yesterday about orientation sessions, I recalled that I've been assigned what they called "learning group 3" for those with scientific skills in biology. My group's first orientation won't come up until a few hours later, so I have some time to spare.

Checking on the connecting cabin door, I found that it hasn’t been unlocked from the other side yet. Since that door leads to what I know would be Prim’s cabin, the one thing I can deduce is that Prim isn’t awake yet. That’s to be expected, though – they gradually wake people up to spread out the workload for the ship’s systems and crew.

I headed down to the ship's cafeteria for breakfast. There are actually more than 20 places to eat aboard the Avalon. Still, the cafeteria's the only place where everything is already included with your ticket, making it my go-to option for meals.

* * *

The cafeteria is unsurprisingly utilitarian. Rows upon rows of tables and chairs, and a few "food machines" scattered around here and there. It's... strange, actually. The cafeteria is so empty. Oh well, I'm probably late for breakfast, and everyone else is just elsewhere at this point.

I made my way to one of the food machines and tapped my wristband against its reader. The screen came to life, and I decided to start my first real meal aboard this starship with a coffee. Navigating to the coffee section of the menu, I made my selection.

"Sorry, the mocha cappuccino extreme is reserved for gold class passengers only." The machine responded to my selection and I rolled my eyes.

"I want the mocha cappuccino extreme. Bill my room, please," I huffed.

"Food can be purchased at one of the ship's a la carte dining facilities."

Making another selection, I was greeted with almost the exact same prompt. "Sorry. The French roast deluxe…" I didn't even wait for the machine to finish before tapping the next option. "Sorry. The pumpkin spice extreme…" Mashing all the available options in frustration, the machine eventually complied.

"Large coffee. Please enjoy your coffee."

It's probably not so surprising when I had the same experience with getting anything else on the breakfast menu. I eventually got myself a bowl of cereal, but not without hearing the word "sorry" from the machine for what I believed to be the twenty-fifth time that morning.

* * *

"Huh, so apparently I'm either very early or late to everything?" I thought to myself as I walked into an empty auditorium with nothing but a row of chairs, the setup reminiscent of a university lecture hall. It appears that I'm the first in my group to arrive.

Before I can think of anything, a hologram of a crew member with bright skin and pinkish hair appeared in front of the room and started speaking – in a tone pitched slightly higher than what I'm used to.

"Welcome, welcome, learning group 3! Will you all please all take a seat?" Said the hologram. I looked around, and there's still nobody here. Things are starting to look weirder with every passing minute.

"Wait," I said. "Learning group 3? I'm the only one here. I think I may be in the wrong group. Or maybe the wrong room? Where is everybody?"

"We are all on the starship Avalon."

"But I'm the only one here!"

"There are five thousand passengers and two hundred, fifty-eight crew members."

"So why am I alone?"

"We're all in this together."

I didn't even bother asking the hologram another question and just sprinted right out of the auditorium.

* * *

`  
// Hibernation Pod 1536  
// Passenger: Mellark, Peeta  
// Designation: Culinary Specialist  
  
Wake-up process initiated.  
Performing H_POD_EVAC sequence… [ complete ]  
Stabilizing vitals… [ complete ]  
Opening hatch… [ complete ]  
Passenger discharged.  
`


	4. Alone

“Hello? Anybody there?” I repeatedly yell out as I ran across what they called the “grand concourse.” An expansive plaza with a lofty atrium stretching over 7 decks tall, filled with all sorts of things and places from entertainment centers to offices and everything in between. The only missing element: people.

Being the central hub for the ship, one would (rightfully) expect that there will be at least one human around. However, after running laps around the concourse, I found that there are absolutely zero other humans anywhere. I started panicking a little. What’s actually going on here?

Making my way to the nearest information kiosk, it blared to life with an insanely cheerful robotic greeting. “Hello! Welcome to the grand concourse aboard the starship Avalon. How can I help you?”

“I need to talk to a person. A real person, please.” I said.

“What sort of person? Personal trainer? Travel planner? Therapist?”

“I don’t know. Someone, uh, in charge.”

“The ship’s steward handles passenger affairs. They’re on level three of the concourse. You can take the elevators on your right to get there.” The kiosk replied as a holographic map popped up, with the directions highlighted in bright, glowing blue lines.

“Thanks.”

“Happy to help!”

* * *

When I finally made my way to the ship steward’s office, I found nothing but an empty desk and chairs that looked as if nobody has ever sat in them. This is not good, I thought to myself. The crew’s supposed to all be up a month before the first passenger ever wakes up, and the steward’s office is supposed to be manned all day and night long.

Running down to the same information kiosk I used earlier, I didn’t even wait for it to finish its greeting, blurting my question right out. “Who’s flying the ship?”

“The flight crew. The captain. The pilot. The chief navigator,” the kiosk replied.

“I need to speak with the captain.”

“The captain rarely handles passenger affairs.”

“Please, it’s an emergency!” My voice is raised now. I really, really need to talk to a live person.

“The captain is usually found on the bridge, on the command deck.” 

Again, a holographic map popped up, giving me directions. I ran off right away, not even bothering to take a second look at the kiosk.

* * *

The command deck, just like anywhere else, is silent and devoid of people. Unsurprisingly, I found out that my ID wristband doesn’t quite work on any of the doors here. This deck is meant for crews and not passengers, after all. After wandering around a little, I found the bridge.

The bridge itself is secured off with another of those big, menacing armored doors that I couldn’t open. There is, however, a small observation area to the side. I guess it’s there so that curious passengers can take a peek at what the flight crew does. Perhaps as a part of a “behind the scenes” tour that would undoubtedly cost extra.

Looking through those glass panels, I felt like my worst nightmare has become a reality. The bridge of the Avalon, too, is empty. Nothing but the faint glow from all the flight instruments and crew stations.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

* * *

I’m now wandering around aimlessly through the grand concourse, not sure what to do. That is until a sign catches my attention. It reads: “Celestial Observatory – Your Window To The Universe!”

Walking into the observatory, I’m greeted by yet another computer. This time, however, its voice is deep and powerful. “Welcome to the observatory. What can I show you?”

“We’re supposed to land soon, but I’m the only one awake. Is that normal?”

“I don’t understand. What can I show you?”

“Show me Homestead II.”

“Homestead II. The fourth planet of the TRAPPIST-1 system.” the deep voice of the observatory said, as the hologram shifted, showing a planet so similar to Earth, with lush vegetation, vast bodies of water, and bright clouds all visible from space.

“Right, and where are we?” I asked.

“We are in transit from Earth to Homestead II.” The observatory answered as the hologram shifted again, this time showing both planets, with a curved, glowing, dotted yellow line running between the two. On that line, a visual representation of the Avalon appeared not too far away from Earth. “We will arrive at Homestead II in 90 years, 3 weeks, and 1 day.”

“Wait. How long ago did we leave Earth?” I asked again, my voice shaking slightly.

“Approximately 30 years ago.”

The reality dawned on me, and I can’t help it. I’m hyperventilating now. The whole thing indeed is a nightmare turned reality.

I woke up too soon. 90 years too soon.


	5. Revelation

_My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am emigrating from Earth to the colony world of Homestead II. I am a passenger on the starship Avalon. I was placed in suspended animation for the trip. I woke up 90 years too early. Why did I wake up so early? How can I go back to sleep? I need to go back to sleep…_

After what must have been the longest night of my life, I finally woke up, calm enough to begin thinking again. The most important thing right now is that I need to find a way to go back to sleep (that is, suspended animation) again. If I don't, I'll likely die of old age before I even get a glimpse of Homestead II. And I'll never get to spend a single moment with Prim ever again.

Prim. The mere thought of her stopped me right in my tracks. I ran down to the hibernation bay and quickly found a hibernation pod. No, _her_ hibernation pod. Pod #1499, sitting there still closed beside mine, which has already opened up. There, I see Prim in her sleep. Even in stasis, her face is calm and happy. Oblivious to what's happening around her.

At least her pod is fine, I thought to myself. But I couldn't bear to lose her, and I know she couldn't bear to lose me. Seeing Prim in her beauty sleep fueled my flame of purpose even further. When she wakes up 90 years in the future, I will have to be there beside her.

There, on the side of her pod, is a small display that reads:

  
` // Hibernation Pod 1499  
// Passenger: Everdeen, Primrose  
// Designation: Medical Doctor  
  
[ All systems nominal ]  
  
**> Status <** Menu  
`

A small D-pad controller as well as two buttons ("accept" and "cancel") sits beneath the display. To be frank, I'm not sure why they opted for this instead of the more traditional touchscreen panel. Was it a decision for safety? For cost? Or perhaps both?

With my pod out of commission (its screen simply displaying the words "passenger discharged" in big, bold letters), I figured that the only way to learn what these pods can do will be through hers. I'm pretty sure they're protected against manipulation (since passengers do have free access to the hibernation bay). I won't be able to cause any harm, but I might cause the pod to malfunction and wake someone up prematurely. If that had to happen, I'd rather not do that to anyone I don't know.

Still, the prospect of messing Prim's hibernation pod up is scary. Very scary. But, if I'm going to work out my problem, I need to know. Reminding myself to be very careful, I started poking around the pod's menus, taking notes of what options are available as I scrolled through the long list of items.

As expected, most items on the menu are greyed out, with a small padlock icon. A helpful help text lets me know that these options are the ones that would require elevated privileges to access. One that I certainly don't have. And none of the options seems to indicate anything about the process of putting people into suspended animation.

I did find one option that wasn't protected, though I had to read it twice to make sure I got it right. There, in front of me, was an option that simply said: "Emergency Wake-Up (Override Program Timer)"

That, honestly, freaked me out. I was so afraid I'm going to touch the wrong button and wake Prim up prematurely, which would make my current problem worse. I mashed the "cancel" button until I got to the main menu, swearing internally that I won't get anywhere close to that option again.

* * *

Now that I know the pods can be overridden to wake its occupant up early, I started to think of a plan. The crew is sleeping in the same pods we do, right? If there's anyone who's going to know how to help me out, it's going to be them.

I spent the rest of that afternoon trying to find the crew hibernation bay, which wasn't listed on any map of the ship I could find. Turns out it's not too far away from the main hibernation bay, just cleverly hidden behind a series of weird hallway turns.

Problem: that entire section is again cordoned off through a series of armored metal doors, to which I have no access.

So I'm going to have to look elsewhere. I decided to visit the ship's infirmary next. If there's going to be anything on this ship that would allow me to get back to sleep, chances are they're going to be in here. I rummaged every single drawer that I could manage to open in that place. First-aid supplies. Suture kits. Medical supplies. More medical supplies. Nothing helpful.

Much to my surprise, I couldn't manage to find even a single bottle of pills or any medicine for that matter. Not even simple ointments. I started complaining in my head about how this place could even be called an infirmary, before my eyes settled on a sleek-looking silver appliance on the wall. Ah. An automated medicine dispenser. I guess it's there to keep all the stuff fresh for a very long period of time. Again, problem: that thing is never going to let me know what it has in stock, much less allow me to get whatever I wanted.

Moving on, the room is again simple and utilitarian. In the middle of the room stands one strange-looking machine/bed combination made out of sterile white plastic and shiny metal. The machine's lettering plate reads: "HSI-430 AutoDoc". I made my way to the machine's control panel and poked around.

An hour later, and I've since given up on the AutoDoc being able to do what I wanted it to do. Pretty much the only thing available on that screen is an option labeled "start diagnosis." I did try that option on myself, but the only thing the machine does is say that I'm in perfect shape. That's not going to be much of a help.

Oh well. Time to look into other ideas.

* * *

Throwing in my towel for the day, I was on my way to the cafeteria for a late dinner when I heard footsteps. Wait, footsteps? Am I going insane already? It has only been a few days!

Making my way around a corner, what I'm seeing makes me blink and rub my eyes. I wanted to make sure I'm not hallucinating. But it's real. There in front of me stands a real person. Medium-high, stocky build, ashy blond hair. He looks at me questioningly as I did the same to him. We stared at each other for a second, unable to speak, before he breaks the silence.

"Are you crew?" He said to me.

"No, are you?" I said, having the exact same question in my mind.

"No. Okay, this is weird." He replied. "Do you know what's going on? I couldn't seem to find anyone else on this ship, and nobody in my group woke up either."

"Probably not more than you do. I guess we could talk?"

"Sure. Uh… what's your name, by the way?"

"Katniss Everdeen," I said. "And you are?"

"Peeta Mellark."

* * *

We talked. And talked. I brought Peeta to the observatory and instructed the computer to show him the exact thing I was shown earlier. Peeta, too, was shocked by what he saw and heard.

After a few minutes of silence (as Peeta absorbed all that information), we both made our way down to the cafeteria together. Turns out Peeta hasn't eaten anything yet either, and we're both starving.

I sat down at a table, a tray of meatloaf dinner and iced tea in front of me, waiting for Peeta to come back with his meal. In the silent atmosphere of the empty cafeteria, I could hear the machine's response to his dinner selection, and I'm pretty sure I heard the words "gold class dinner" in there somewhere.

He returned with a filled plate of seared salmon, a cup of creamy mashed potatoes, salad, and what appears to be fluffy bread rolls and cake on the side.

"Wow, Katniss, you're someone with a simple taste," he commented.

"Well, I'm not a gold class passenger. As much as I would've liked that, the ship appears to think that seafood is above my pay grade," I meekly replied. Before I could think of anything else, Peeta gently slid my tray away to the side, and his tray in front of me. "Here," he said. "I'll go get another one. It doesn't cost me anything anyway. It's the least I could do to make your day a little better."

We talked over the meal for what must have been multiple hours, going through everything we've just experienced earlier and hundreds of things we think would be an option to explore.

"Have you considered trying to wake some of the crew up? Maybe they could help us with something." Peeta said up before taking a sip of his tea.

"I looked into it, and the problem is the crew's hibernation pods are in a separate area. I couldn't get in there," I sighed. "We can probably try to break into it, but those doors are armored, and I know nothing about tools."

"Hmm. We'll find a way, I guess. We need to find a way."

"Couldn't agree more with that." Again, my mind floats to Prim in her pod.

"So, maybe we should meet again first thing tomorrow morning to think this through with a fresh mind? I need some rest first, though. Haven't had much sleep since I was woken up." Peeta said as he yawned a little.

"Sure. The fountain in the grand concourse, 8 o'clock tomorrow?"

"That works."

* * *

  
` // Hibernation Pod 2519  
// Passenger: Kentwell, Clove  
// Designation: Computer Engineer  
  
Wake-up process initiated.  
Performing H_POD_EVAC sequence… [ complete ]  
Stabilizing vitals… [ complete ]  
Opening hatch… [ complete ]  
Passenger discharged.  
`


	6. The Next Morning

Peeta and I headed down to the cafeteria for breakfast. Besides the weird fact that half of the food machines seem to be offline and Peeta insisting on using his ID to get us both breakfast from the gold class menu, everything feels just like all my previous breakfast runs.

“So, Katniss, what do you think we should try today?” Peeta spoke up as he broke off bits of his breakfast roll, dipping them in hot chocolate.

“I think we should try to wake up the crew. Somehow. They’re probably our best bet of getting back to sleep quickly.” I said. “There must be some way of waking at least one of them. An emergency alarm. An override for that door. Something.”

We eventually concluded that the first thing we should do is head back to the ship steward’s office, as it’s one of the few “crew-side” areas accessible to us. There might be something useful in there. Perhaps some tools or manuals that could help us figure out the black box that is the Avalon. It’s going to be somewhat of an uphill battle since neither Peeta, nor I know much about anything technology. I don’t think my skills and knowledge in wildlife biology would be much of use here. Knowing how some animals hibernate doesn’t quite translate to being able to make humans do the same. Peeta, too, doubted his skills in cooking and baking would be much of use.

We shoved that worry out of the way (for now) and headed out with a destination: the ship’s steward office on the third level of the grand concourse.

* * *

``

`// Hibernation Pod 3052  
// Passenger: Crossly, Finch  
// Designation: Electrical Engineer  
  
Wake-up process initiated.  
Performing H_POD_EVAC sequence… [ complete ]  
Stabilizing vitals… [ complete ]  
Opening hatch… [ complete ]  
Passenger discharged.  
`

``

* * *

Turns out, the ship steward’s office wasn’t as barren and empty as I initially thought. Cleverly blended in with the room’s smooth walls are many (unlocked!) storage spaces containing all sorts of stuff: a first aid kit, a pair of electric screwdrivers with over 200 interchangeable tool heads, flashlights, heavy-duty bolt cutters, and, of course, a stack of what they called QRHs – Quick Reference Handbooks.

Peeta helped me pull all of them out, piling the handbooks neatly onto one of the desks. We went through all of them and found out that while these handbooks provide us with a treasure trove of information about the ship itself, most things described within aren’t very useful to us.

Sure, one of the handbooks contained a guide on how to bypass stuck doors, but it’s mentioned that the guide is for cabin room doors and other public “unsecured” doors only. It’s not going to work on the door we’re after. Still, I bookmarked the page with a piece of tape. This might just come in handy someday.

All over the place, the handbooks mentioned that we can pull up detailed specifications and manuals for everything else on the ship through the crew intranet. Whatever that means, I would hazard a guess that we can get to those using some sort of computer terminal in here.

After what must have been a really long five minutes, we found the power switch for the steward’s desk. Well, a computer terminal. To describe it more accurately, the entire desk is a giant computer terminal covered in touchscreens. As soon as Peeta pushed down on the button, the screens flared to life. On the bottom of the screen, a virtual keyboard appeared, and lines of text started scrolling through the rest of the free space:

` **mxBIOS-AE 14.0 Build 1324**  
(C) 2212 Stark Industries Space Systems, Inc.  
  
System memory: 64 GB  
1 Processor(s) detected, architecture riscv64, 8 total cores enabled  
  
Boot mode: UEFI  
Touch interface initialized  
  
Press F2 to enter setup, ESC for boot menu (3… 2… 1…)  
Initializing PXE boot environment…  
  
Client MAC: 38:BA:B0:93:A5:C4  
UUID: B886D03C-B464-4C2A-A5C4-D863A40E122B  
  
Acquiring configuration using DHCP… done  
Client IP: 10.212.55.11 / 255.255.255.0  
Booting from TFTP server 10.212.55.254  
Trying to load: pxelinux.cfg/default  
  
GNU GRUB version 3.00-5-homestead-1.05  
Booting HomesteadClient GNU/Linux, with Linux 42.7.11-386  
`

I’ll get straight to the point. I don’t understand even a single line that’s scrolling through the screen right now. And it seems to be picking up—more and more lines of text fly by at speeds faster than I could read them. Eventually, though, the wall of text went away, and I’m greeted with a user interface that looks a little friendlier.

Still, in front of me now is a prompt asking for an ID. I tried my ID. Peeta tried his. Unsurprisingly, none of our IDs worked. This terminal is clearly not for passenger use. I sighed—another dead end.

We’re sitting there trying to think what we could do next when suddenly the doors to the office slid open, and yet another human walked in. Before Peeta or I could say anything, she spoke up first. “Thank goodness there’s someone here! I’ve been trying to find an actual person to talk to for hours. You’re both the ship’s stewards, right? I could use some help right about now.”

“Woah, slow down, slow down,” Peeta replied to her. “We’re passengers, too. None of the crew are awake yet.”  
“Wait. What?” She replied, confused.  
“You see, something’s wrong with the ship. We woke up too soon. Like, 90 years too soon. At first, it’s just me. And then him.” I said as I pointed to Peeta. “But now apparently you, too.”  
“You’ve gotta be – no, this… this couldn’t be happening…” her voice started trembling, her green eyes on the verge of tears. She spun around and stormed out of the office, almost running head-first into the glass doors which slid out of her way just in time.

* * *

We eventually caught up with her a while later, finding her on the top floor of the promenade, staring out silently at the darkness of space in front of us.  
“Hey, are you okay?” I said, in a voice as soft as I could. She turned towards me, nodding a little as I slowly approached her. Offering my hand, I introduced myself and Peeta. “Katniss Everdeen. And Peeta Mellark,” I said as I gestured towards Peeta, who’s standing a little further away.

“Clove. Clove Kentwell,” she said, before shaking her head slightly and continuing. “I still couldn’t believe this happened. Hibernation failure. They told me – us – that it couldn’t happen. And yet, here we are.”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “It happened. We’ve been up for a few days now trying to figure out how to get back to sleep.” I said, eventually going on to explain what Peeta and I have tried up until this point. My experience with the pods. The ship’s infirmary. The crew hibernation bay. That computer in the steward’s office. “I’m at my wit’s end here. I’m… not sure what to do next.”

“You mentioned something about a computer, right? That one in the office? Maybe I can take a look at it. See what it does. Maybe find a way around that screen.” Clove said. 

“You could?” Peeta chimed in, earning a nod from Clove. “Yes. Those kinds of things are my trade. I do computer and software engineering. Couldn't guarantee anything, but at least I can try...”

“Good to hear that,” I said. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Back in the ship steward’s office, Peeta and I watched as Clove sat right in front of the terminal, flipping though one quick reference handbook that we both completely ignored earlier (its cover sporting the big, bold letters: “Computer Terminal Hardware – Quick Reference Handbook”), and watching the start-up sequence roll by again as she restarted the computer. 

Words I couldn’t understand escaped the corner of her mouth. “Okay… a Stark embedded RISC-V system. PXE network boot… hmm maybe I could use that,” she said as she pulled out her phone and took photos of the screen. “Ah, this thing does run Linux. Great!”

“Okay… so, in plain English, what does that mean?” I asked, not understanding a single word Clove said.

“It means I might be able to work around that pesky login screen. Here,” she pointed to an illustration in the reference handbook and said to me, “Can you help me open up this panel? Seems like it’s held on by just screws. I’ll go grab a few tools from my cabin. Be back real soon.”

“Sure,” I said as Clove darted out of the room again. Peeta, being the one standing closest to the storage cabinet, took out both screwdriver sets and handed one to me.

After a quick game of “figuring which driver bit to use,” we eventually found the right one – think it was called Security Torx or something. Or at least that’s what the booklet that came with the screwdriver said. 16 screws later, we got the panel to pop open.

Clove returned a few minutes later, a small toolbox in one hand and a mean-looking briefcase in another. I quickly learned her briefcase wasn’t a briefcase after all, but rather a weird-looking laptop computer. One that looks straight out of a Transformers movie. “It’s a rugged laptop,” she explained. “Military grade. You can literally pressure wash it, and it’ll be fine. It’ll survive almost anything you throw at it, quite a necessity for fieldwork on a colony planet if you think of it!”

She plopped her laptop on top of the desk, cracked open her toolbox stuffed full of gear (wires, USB drives, a mean-looking knife, all sorts of different connectors and cables, weird-looking electronic devices, more knives...), then proceeded to dive head-first into the space behind the panel me and Peeta removed earlier. Before long, the area is absolutely covered with all sorts of parts and wires. Eventually, she pulled out a blue cable from what’s now a jumble of wires and plugged it into her laptop.

“Phew. Alright. Time to get to work.” she said. I sat behind her, watching as she turned on her laptop. Not a minute later, I could just stare as her fingers flew across the laptop’s keyboard at speeds faster than I’ve ever seen anyone type—more lines of text fly by the screen.

* * *

A few hours later and Clove looked up again, sighing. “They’ve done a darn good job locking down the system,” she said. “This thing here,” she points to the terminal, “works as a thin client. Basically, its only job is to show you things. All the real stuff happens elsewhere, and we simply can’t get to it directly.”

“So, another dead end?” I asked.

“Maybe, maybe not. It’s just that this won’t be as straightforward as initially expected. I’ll have to run some scans, see what’s around the network, and try to break them open manually,” Clove answered as she typed in a few commands on her laptop. “There, now I have scanners searching every corner of that network. It’ll take a few hours for the results to come back, though.”

“So, dinner while we wait?” Peeta asked. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m starving.”

* * *

``

`// Hibernation Pod 3306  
// Passenger: Hawkins, Cato  
// Designation: Systems Administrator  
  
Wake-up process initiated.  
Performing H_POD_EVAC sequence… [ complete ]  
Stabilizing vitals… [ complete ]  
Opening hatch… [ complete ]  
Passenger discharged.  
`

``


	7. Arthur

Peeta and I started our little expedition to explore the ship from top to bottom. Even though we won’t have access to many areas, we figured that with a careful eye, there might be little details around here and there that could come in handy. 

Sure, we all know that detailed maps of the ship (and all sorts of other juicy information) should be available somewhere inside the Avalon's crew-only network. So why even bother? Well, two big reasons: because Clove’s attempt at hacking the ship’s network might take a while (if that’s even doable at all), and because Peeta and I wanted to do something productive. Sitting there staring at Clove’s screens (she has since taken over the steward’s desk and plopped down two extra monitors to give her some extra “digital real estate”) certainly isn’t going to be much of help.

It’s a good thing that the Avalon’s on-board “free Wi-Fi” service is working properly. Clove found out that the ship’s guest experiences app, as horrible as it is, does come with support for personal chat rooms between passengers (it even does video calling!). We quickly set up a small channel for the three of us so that we can all be on the same page if there’s anything new happening.

We decided to start with the grand concourse. It’s packed full of the usual stuff one would probably find on a cruise ship – shops, restaurants, entertainment areas, things like those. All the shops were devoid of merchandise (well, of course, they weren’t expecting guests to be around right now. The crew probably stocks the shelves a few weeks ahead of when we’re supposed to wake up). Their doors to the backroom were all locked with an ID reader that (obviously) won’t open for us.

The restaurants are a little different. Much to Peeta’s disappointment, we found out that they don’t even have kitchens. The only things we found in the backroom are charging docks for robotic waiters and tiny dumbwaiter elevators – too small for any human to fit in – that seems to bring up food from… an automated kitchen somewhere deep down in the ship’s bowels. I’m pretty sure it’s fully automated – we tried out the Japanese restaurant on the fourth deck, and I was able to get a bowl of freshly made ramen from the menu. No crew should be awake yet, so the logical conclusion is that cooking is automated.

* * *

We were walking down the first deck of the grand concourse, through the other side that we both hadn’t visited before, when I spotted something in the corner of my eye that made me stop right in my tracks and spun around, reaching out and dragging along Peeta, whose eye blinked at what he too saw.

Standing behind the long, lavishly decorated bar is a human. A bartender, standing there polishing glasses, clearly oblivious to what’s going on around him. Clearly a member of the crew. After blinking a few times to confirm that I wasn’t hallucinating, I started running right into the bar, with Peeta in tow.

It seems that the bartender heard the sounds of our footsteps because once we got closer, he looked up, turned to us, and said simply: “Afternoon!”. It’s as if nothing has gone wrong.

I was out of words, so it was Peeta who spoke up. “Oh man, we’re in so much trouble right now. We’re supposed to be sleeping, not standing here.”

“Who wants to sleep on such a beautiful day like this?” replied the bartender cheerily. “What can I get for you?”

“Huh?” Peeta said, confused at how the bartender could be completely oblivious to the fact that he, too, woke up 90 years too early. Surely, he would know that too.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

“Oh, um, okay, just get me water, please.”

“And what about you?” the bartender said, now facing me. I simply replied, “I’ll… have the same thing as him,” while pointing my hands towards Peeta. The bartender nodded and began moving sideways as if he were on skates.

We stepped up to the bar, and there we saw it – the bartender is yet another robot. His body stops at the waist, with complex mechanisms below that connects the upper part of his body to the rails built into the floor. It wasn’t long until he slid back towards us with two glasses of water, each decorated with a slice of lemon in hand.

“So you’re a robot,” I mumbled.

“Android, technically,” he said, smiling. “Arthur’s the name.”

“Katniss,” I replied before making another pointing motion to Peeta, “and this is Peeta.”

“Pleased to meet you both.”

“So, Arthur, how much do you know about this ship?” Peeta asks up.

“I don’t know,” replied Arthur. “I know some things.”

“What do I do if my hibernation pod malfunctions?” started Peeta.

“Oh, hibernation pods are fail-safe. They never malfunction.”

“Yeah, well, we woke up early,” I said.

“Can’t happen.”

Sighing a little, Peeta decided to try a new question. “How long until we get to Homestead II?”

“Ninety years or so.”

“And when are all the passengers supposed to wake up?” he continued.

“Not until the last four months.”

“So, how is it that we’re sitting here with you, with ninety years to go?” Peeta said, dragging out the word “ninety” to make sure Arthur got that part right.

“Hm,” Arthur replied as his face froze and twitched a little. “It’s not possible for you both to be here.”

“Well, we are.”

Before I can think of any more questions, my phone (and Peeta’s) beeped with a message from Clove. It reads simply: “there’s something up here that you might want to see.”

“What do I owe you?” I asked as we’re getting ready to leave.

“Katniss, everything in this bar is on the house.”

* * *

`// Hibernation Pod 1514  
// Passenger: Evans, Marvel  
// Designation: Mechanical Engineer  
  
Wake-up process initiated.  
Performing H_POD_EVAC sequence… [ complete ]  
Stabilizing vitals… [ complete ]  
Opening hatch… [ complete ]  
Passenger discharged.  
`


	8. Cargo Hold

“There’s something up here that you might want to see...” 

Clove’s cryptic cliff-hanger message echoed in my head, and I started to ponder what exactly did she meant by that. Has she finally figured something out? But then, why didn’t she just type down what happened? Did something go horribly wrong?

Peeta and I headed to the elevators that will take us up and back to deck 3. Punching in our destination into one of the screens in the elevator lobby (it’s the fancy kind where you have to put in where you want to go before getting on), we waited. Everything seems perfectly normal. The elevator arrived with a distinct four-note tune letting us know it’s here, its door-side display clearly showing deck 3 as one of, well, no, the only stop it will make, as there are no other requests by anyone else.

We got in, and the elevator started moving up for a few seconds before abruptly screeching to a halt. Ceiling lights flickered briefly before shutting off altogether, leaving us in complete darkness for a few seconds before the faint red glow of the emergency lights came on.

“We’re experiencing technical difficulties. Please remain calm. The elevator will be moving to the closest floor momentarily so that you may safely exit,” came a pre-recorded message from overhead speakers as I felt the floor shaking slightly. It appears as if the elevator is now moving down again.

When the doors opened again, we found ourselves back on the first deck. It’s just not the first deck we expected at all. Instead of bright artificial lights everywhere, all we’re seeing is darkness with uneven patches of emergency lighting here and there. It seems that the entire grand concourse has lost power.

“Now that’s bad…” I muttered to myself, but it must’ve been loud enough for Peeta to hear.

“Something is really wrong. We need to get upstairs, and fast.” 

* * *

We practically half-ran, half-jumped our way up the stairs, and sprinted through the decks in an effort to get back to the ship steward’s office as fast as possible. By the time we’re halfway there, I heard loud clicks and buzzing noises, and the grand concourse started slowly getting filled with light again.

Arriving at the office, what I saw made me feel like I could faint right about here and now. There, in the office along with Clove, is two other people. A fox-faced girl with sleek red hair and a tall, monstrous man that made Peeta look tiny in comparison, all sitting around the same desk talking to Clove. Apparently, it seems that the ship wasn’t quite done with waking just the three of us up this early.

Before long, we all introduced ourselves to each other, and I came to know the fox-faced girl as Finch, an electrical engineer with extensive experience in building and operating power plants of all kinds, and the other blond-haired guy as Cato, a systems administrator who keeps making jokes that only Clove could understand.

“So, how long have you been awake?” I asked Finch and Cato.

“A day. Both of us,” started Cato as he nods slightly at Finch, “I ran into her downstairs this morning when she’s trying to perform percussive maintenance on one of the infomats. Thought she was crew, but eventually found out otherwise.”

“Percussive maintenance?” I think I heard that term somewhere before, but I don’t quite recall it.

“Oh, it’s just a saying for when you try to fix something by hitting it,” Finch explained. “That damn infomat wasn’t responding to any of my queries, and I couldn’t find a power switch to turn it off and on again, so I gave it a few good bashes with my fist. That did the trick though, it started answering questions afterwards. That’s how Cato and I found out about this office. Weren’t expecting to run into more passengers, though.”

“Yeah, we all don’t. So you know the full extent of how deep of a trouble we’re in, right?” I asked and got silent nods from everyone as a reply. “So Peeta and I went around the grand concourse this morning, and the conclusion is that there’s absolutely nothing of interest. Well, at least we know all the dining places work, they’re automated, entertainment areas appear to all be accessible, and there’s a working bar with a robotic bartender on the first deck. Otherwise, all of the interesting stuff seems to be behind locked doors. That being said, Clove, have you found anything useful?”

“Maybe. I found out exactly what they’re running for the remote desktop thingy, and we’re in some luck. They’re running a slightly older version of the software with known security vulnerabilities I might be able to take advantage of. There’s no telling what’s behind that wall, though. It might be something very useful, or not at all. I can’t tell right now,” says Clove.

* * *

We decided to again break up into two teams to try and work the problem out. Cato and Clove, with their knowledge of computers, will be in the steward’s office trying to break into the system. I, Peeta, and Finch will roam around and continue what we’ve been doing since morning – continuing our little expedition to find out what’s around the ship.

Moving away from the grand concourse, we made our way past numerous areas designed for nothing but recreation, more than a few pools of all shapes and sizes, more auditoriums than I could count, and one vast greenhouse filled with lush vegetation and even a small stream (all tended to by an army of robots, of course), until we reached the more utilitarian part of the ship – the cargo hold.

Ignoring the sign that said something along the lines of “no passengers beyond this point,” we barged into the cargo hold anyway (because who can stop us?) and was totally surprised when there’s no locked door in our path at all. It seems, though, that we had the ship to thank for that. The single security door in our way appears to have malfunctioned, and it defaulted to fail-safe operation, which kept the door unlocked and open. At least that’s what Finch was able to tell based on her observations.

Right in front of us are rows upon rows of cargo racks stretching as far as my eye can see, each filled with storage pods the size of a small shipping container. That’s when I remembered – each passenger on the ship gets one walk-in storage pod where they can move all their belongings with them to Homestead II included in their ticket, with an option to purchase more space if needed. Somewhere within this sea of pods, there’s one with my name on it, filled with all sorts of stuff. I looked at Finch with a face that translated into something along the lines of “how are we even going to find our stuff in here?”

“Katniss, look, each row is marked with numbers starting from three zeroes,” Finch pointed out to a small, triangular numeric sign on the sides of each row I haven’t spotted before. “I think it has to do with organizing these storage pods… could it be that they used the numbers on our hibernation pods to sort our stuff?”

“Well, only one way to find out,” I said, pointing to a cluster of seemingly electric vehicles all parked and plugged in to our left. “Let’s borrow one of those,” I said as I pointed to a small but sleek golf cart with four seats.

After removing no less than eight anchors and tie-downs holding the cart to the floor of the ship, along with its bulky charging cable, we climbed on. I took the driver’s seat, Peeta climbed in the front, and Finch took the backseat. I stumbled a little, trying to find the “start” switch for the cart. Somehow, there’s not a single start button, nor a keyhole I can find. I was about to start asking questions, but then the center screen (which, by the way, is the only screen on this tiny cart) came to life with a single white “T” in the middle of it. Soon after, the entire interface popped up – vehicle ready, transmission in park, battery at 100%. I'm thankful, really, that the cart didn't require any sort of key to start up, which makes the process of "borrowing" it that much easier.

Throwing the cart into gear, we drove off down the dimly lit hallway that is the Avalon’s cargo hold.

* * *

`// Hibernation Pod 4569  
// Passenger: Glover, Thresh  
// Designation: Botanist  
  
Wake-up process initiated.  
Performing H_POD_EVAC sequence… [ complete ]  
Stabilizing vitals… [ complete ]  
Opening hatch… [ complete ]  
Passenger discharged.  
`


End file.
